Monsoon Season (24 page)

I just smiled as I snatched my arm free and said, ‘No, thanks.’

Jack would show up when my shift was over. I’d make him a
chai
tea and he’d tip lavishly and we’d walk home arm in arm. He’d unlock the door, shrug off his backpack and step out of his shoes as soon as we were inside. We’d debate what to make for dinner, often pulling out the delivery menus. He’d fan them in his hands; I’d close my eyes and pick.

I’d moved an armchair to the corner of the room, in front of the window. It was the only change I’d made to the apartment since moving in. It was really Jack’s place, after all. I liked to sit in the chair and read in the light, listening to the city spinning noisily below. The windowsill was the perfect place for my mug of hot tea (I drank tea now) and I liked to leave the window open. The breeze cooled my skin and I breathed in the air as it turned slowly into autumn.